


Fic: Shelter Me, A/M, PG

by tracy7307



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur takes Gwaine's advice regarding Merlin and the heavens open up on their walk home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Shelter Me, A/M, PG

**Title** Shelter Me  
 **Rating** PG  
 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Content Labels** None  
 **Word Count** 900  
 **Summary** modern university AU. Arthur takes Gwaine's advice regarding Merlin and the heavens open up on their walk home.  
 **Author’s Note** Written for [](http://chaosmaka.livejournal.com/profile)[**chaosmaka**](http://chaosmaka.livejournal.com/), who was kind enough to host the great Battle of the Sexy Dentists, 2011! She prompted M/A, modern AU, rain.

  
Three pints course warmly through Arthur’s veins. Three pints help him forget about the angry Word doc on his laptop, glaring white at him in reminder of the essay due Monday. Three pints help him to push aside his grief for his father.

But, most importantly, three pints help him flirt openly with Merlin.

After all, it’s only been months of accidental knee touches during lectures, long chats over Google Talk, and excuses for Arthur to stay just one more hour at Merlin’s flat ( _I don’t quite understand what we’re supposed to do for this assignment. Explain it again?_ or _One more episode, come on Merlin, don’t be such an old lady. No one goes to bed at half nine_ ).

Gwaine calls it passive flirting, and maybe he’s right. Maybe Arthur needs to heed Gwaine’s advice and become the hunter: to kiss those ridiculous stick-out ears, push his fingers past Merlin’s plump lips, and peel off that terrible t-shirt that simply reads “Words on a Shirt”.

With the help of three pints, Arthur holds up his hand in a ‘stop’ motion as Merlin outlines the reasons why he thinks Captain America could take down Thor.

“First of all, Merlin, you’re wrong. Clearly Thor would win. Captain America’s shield and superhuman abilities are nothing in comparison to Thor’s hammer and immortality.”

“But-”

“Furthermore, this tavern has become far too noisy for this conversation. Honestly, I’ve no idea how you can spend so much time here.”

Merlin laughs in amusement. “I told you, Arthur, just because Gaius jokingly told you I’d gone to the tavern that _one_ time you came looking for me at the coffee shop-”

“He’s your supervisor. Obviously he wouldn’t spread lies about his employees.”

“I was-”

“At the tavern instead of writing your paper, yes Merlin, I know. Come now, let’s go back to my flat and sort it all out,” Arthur teases, but the hand that he places on Merlin’s thin forearm, pale skin smattered with black hair under his palm, is far from a joke.

“Fine,” Merlin says with a grin playing on his lips.

What they don’t count on, though, is that on the short walk from the Shakespeare’s Head to Arthur’s flat it starts pissing down.

Arthur’s shirt is soaked through almost immediately with the downpour. Through the sheets of rain he can’t make out Merlin’s face but can hear him laughing as he starts sprinting toward Arthur’s building.

 

Arthur dashes after Merlin who runs like a goddamn gazelle, all long powerful legs and easy speed. He ducks his head as the rain assaults his face with stinging little drops and he’s glad that he lives so close, just down the diagonal footpath and there they are, panting under the overhang of the building as the rain taps loudly on the metal above.

Merlin laughs, corners of his eyes crinkling. His dark curls lie wet against his head, drops of water trailing down his neck. He takes off his glasses, lifts the hem of his wet t-shirt, and tries to dry the lenses. Underneath the shirt is a pale belly and a trail of dark curls leading down, down, and Arthur has to look away.

 _Man up, Pendragon,_ Arthur recalls Gwaine’s words. _Be the hunter._

“Come on,” Arthur takes Merlin’s hand. “Let’s get you into some of my dry clothes, yeah?” While he’s leading Merlin up the stairs Arthur laces his fingers through Merlin’s and hopes that Merlin can’t feel the beat of his heart, fast as a rabbit’s. The reassuring squeeze against his palm tells him all he needs to know.

As soon as Merlin’s through his door Arthur crowds him back against it. He’s in Merlin’s space, the musky scent of him filling Arthur’s nose. The lights are still off in the flat and only the white moonlight and the yellow light of the street lamps spill through the windows, but Arthur can still see the sharp angle of Merlin’s cheekbone, so he reaches to touch it, to run his thumb along its angular beauty.

Merlin smiles and breathes a laugh. “Took you long enough,” he says and presses a kiss to Arthur’s palm.

Arthur wraps his other hand around Merlin’s hip, denim damp under his fingers, and softly touches his lips to Merlin’s.

There’s no urgency between them as they kiss over and over, a slight turn of the head, a little tilt of the jaw, breath fanning hot over skin. Arthur touches his tongue to Merlin’s once and pulls back, placing his forehead to Merlin’s. “Let’s get changed.”

Merlin nods. Arthur’s grey sweatpants and Pixies t-shirt are ridiculously oversized on Merlin’s slight frame, and Arthur hopes that his clothes will smell of Merlin.

They each have one more beer and kiss lazily on the couch, never turning the lights on. The rain patters against the window. Arthur finds a slight thrill to snogging in the dark, as if he’s a teenager misbehaving, certain to get caught at any moment.

Merlin spends the night and Arthur wraps himself around Merlin’s back, one arm over his waist. Perhaps Arthur could have pushed it farther – try to slide his hand under Merlin’s waistband, but Arthur feels that would be for another time – something for the morning, the sun blessing their bodies with warmth and light.

It seems as though rainy nights were meant for slow kisses and warm cuddles, and Arthur is perfectly fine with that.


End file.
